


June Haverly

by silentinthetrees



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Death, Drug Use, Gen, Other, Suicide, luke the noodle just wants to find his way in life, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-04-08 23:32:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4325016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentinthetrees/pseuds/silentinthetrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>❝You're on top of the world, just trying to stay on track. And they will kiss your feet while they stab your back.❞</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on wattpad (by me, just in case you were wondering.) but I decided to post it on here, because it was/is one of my favourite stories (that I wrote) and since I've made my AO3 account, I've barely been on wattpad.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

**"Remember two years ago, when we all listened to that one song, trying to figure out its meaning? We did not understand it. Everything we understood was that it was a sad song. Do you remember that song?"**

"June Haverly?"

**"Yes, June Haverly. A year after it was published, we re-discovered it again. Do you guys remember that? We understood it a little, thinking the song was overdone."**

_"Isn't it, still?"_

**"No, not at all. I truly understand it finally. Though I wish, I didn't."**


	2. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a specific incident becomes official.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that these chapters won't be very long, but I'll be honest - I like it this way.
> 
> Also, this is going to be very short because it's basically just an article in the news.

_**Will Luke Hemmings turn out to be the next June Haverly?** _

Madrid, Spain; A few days ago, famous and popular singer of the band _5 Seconds of Summer_ , Luke Hemmings passed away. He was found in a hotel room in Madrid. Hemmings was brought to the nearest hospital immediately.

On the fifth of May, Luke Hemmings was found unconscious in his hotel room and band member Michael Clifford called the ambulance in a heartbeat, as he told us. His lifeless body was brought to the hospital where the doctors were looking for all typed of evidence that could lead to the cause of his death.

Whilst this was happening, we had the chance to talk to a police officer about the incident and the policemen told us, that from their first look and their first impression, they would say it’s June Haverly all over again.

In case you haven’t heard of Case Haverly, Miss June Haverly was the singer and rhythm guitarist of the band _GLORIOUS CRIME_ , a successful band consisting of the four girls, June, May Kimberly (guitar), April Yvonne (bass) and July Harley (drums). They reached success extremely fast and the expectations on them were always higher and harder to maintain. Their career lasted three years and then Haverly drugged herself and died, caused by an overdose.

Now, we were lead to think, that this is, what happened to Mister Hemmings during the last 12 hours, according to his shaken-up band mate, Calum Hood.

“We went to bed quite late last night. It was the first show in a while and we were tired and wanted to sleep longer than we did the previous night. So we all got into our rooms and when we wanted to check on him, about 12 hours after we went to sleep, we [chokes] found him.”

_GLORIOUS CRIME_ ’s career ended soon after the death of Miss Haverly, the guitars and the drums (so did their manager tell us) kept arguing and blaming the other for little mistakes.  
Will bandmates C. Hood (bass, vocals), M. Clifford (guitar, vocals) and A. Irwin (drums) end up like that, as well?


	3. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it rains, it pours.

About two days ago, on the fifth, we had received a call from the local police station. We were hoping for the best (at least, the best _possible_ thing) but ended up, having the worst case scenario in our heads become reality. We were crying and the tears didn’t seem to stop pouring. We cried and cried for hours and for the rest of the entire day, we did not say a single thing. We were just sat in one of our hotel rooms, and we did nothing. We sat there, staring onto the white ceiling or out of the window. What had happened just seemed too surreal. I thought, we were dreaming but it wasn’t a dream. It was horrible and the most tragic thing I can remember and all of us three had a red nose and blood-shot, puffy eyes.

 

We didn’t care if someone came into the room and saw us, we couldn’t have given two shits if someone had caught us young adults crying like this. It didn’t matter – what happened was too bad, and there would have been no other thing than to cry. Everyone would cry if this happened. Luke was our brother, he was the superglue that kept us together when we were arguing; he was the childish boy in the body of a giant, a real sweetheart who would sacrifice himself for someone else.

 

He was one to forgive and forget, he was the one that would take shit and apologize even if it wasn’t his fault. He was the person you would give everything to have them in your life. He was our family and we lost him.

 

Family isn't always blood. It's the people in your life who want you in theirs; the ones who accept you for who you are. The ones who would do anything to see you smile and who love you no matter what. Family is your home, and your home is where your family is. Your family makes you feel loved. Family doesn't care, if you are gay or straight. They don't care if you are black or white. Everything they care about, is the way you feel. They care for you, if you are sad, or feeling depressed, They always will because they love you for you.

 

And that’s what Luke was to us. He had loved us at our worst and he had deserved as our best. He deserved anything that the richest soul has. He would find happiness in a shelter home and he would find a way to make a poor soul, a poor and lonely, sad and depressed soul smile.

 

Our best friend was a brother. He would anything and he put everyone before himself. He was too precious to have this destiny. But that’s the thing about depression. The saddest people seem the happiest. The smartest people are the most depressed. And `do you know why?

 

The smartest people are the saddest because they know how cruel and terrifying and horrible the world is. He saw through everything and everyone. He could tell when something was wrong because he knows the feeling. Yet no one was there to help him. And Luke definitely needed help. He deserved it and he deserved everything.

 

I would have done everything just so I could have been able to help him. But I wasn’t and that’s the most heart-wrecking thing in my entire life. No one of us was there to help him, yet he was the one to see everything. Luke needed us.

 

And we disappointed him.

 

The sadness in my head and heart and brain is taking over my entire body and I feel like I can do nothing about it. I feel like I deserve to feel this way. We all do. We deserve the tears and we deserve the scars on our heart and we deserve the pain that Luke went through. And Luke deserved the happiness we used to feel.

 

That’s when I realise that I’m never going to see Luke again. My – our – best friend, brother and _guardian_ was taken from us two days ago and he had caused this himself. He had done this to himself and we had no chance to make him stop. We didn’t know it was going to happen.

 

I thought that we knew each other. I thought that the four of us knew every oh-so-tiny thing about each other, that we could read each other’s minds and that we would be able to predict when something bad was going to happen. But it seems like Luke decided to change the plan within a few hours.

 

For one moment, one single moment, I had doubted that we meant something to him. But I just know that that cannot be. We were in a band together, we wrote history together and we had lived together. All of the embarrassing stories we had to tell, we shared them. We made history and we made destiny. But destiny itself had its own mind.

 

I never thought that this was going to happen. Of course, we knew he had panic attacks, but we didn’t know enough. We knew nothing about panic attack and anxiety and we all were anxious. No one thought it was a big deal.

 

But when the police man told us, he had cuts all over his hips, thighs, and shoulders, we were left speechless. And then we were crying again. Now, I am crying again.

 

"I want to go to his room," I said, my voice was shaky. I got nods as an answer and I nodded, too. We remained silent and still, although my hands were shaking and my lips were quivering and I was shivering. Quietly and as calmly as I could, I walked upstairs, avoided my own suite and headed straight to our passed friend's. I entered his room and looked through it, looked over the mess that always remained. The air in the room smelled very bad and I felt uncomfortable, being in here. It just felt like I was going to be looking through his private things and that’s just too inappropriate. "I miss you," I mutter. I sat down on his bed, my eyes looking at a journal on the desk. Pure curiosity filled my brain.

 

I got up and walked to the journal, picked it up and opened it. The leather that covered the actual book was worn out, and the smell gave the same impression as the look of it. Old. My eyes read the first paragraph of what was written on the old yellow-ish paper. Shock replaced curiosity. Tears filled my eyes. Why didn't he just tell us?. He handled it the wrong way. He could have asked for help but instead he intoxicated his own self. He should have talked to his best friends – his brothers, his family. I wish I knew what had been happening in his world. I felt like a horrible friend. And that was when tears started to fall. Once again.

 

_When it rains, it pours._

I couldn't handle it anymore, standing in his room, looking through his private stuff. Yet, I took the small journal with me, in case I wanted to find out more about the cause of his death. Maybe this move was inappropriate but I didn't care right now. Looking down at my feet, I went into my hotel room and placed the book on my nightstand and stripped down to my boxers. Sighing, I climbed into my bed and curled myself up like a ball, wrapping the thin sheets around my pale body. I feel fragile and I hate it. But I know that Luke felt like this for the last month.

I could barely fall asleep. Whenever my eyes closed, pictures of his body came to my mind, and voices haunted me. They kept telling me that his death was my fault and I would see pictures of him, committing suicide. "You could have stopped him. You didn't even know, he was suicidal," the voice screamed. I would open my eyes again and wipe away the tears. I thought I ran out of tears, but I always found myself with watering eyes and shaking hands. I hardly managed to breathe. It felt like a tight grip around my neck. It was too much. _It wasn’t my fault, was it?_

I couldn't help it but read further in his journal. Though I knew I was crossing a thick line, I was very aware that I was going too far into his privacy. But I needed to know what had been happening in his dark world; I just couldn't help it. My hands were shakier than I remembered them to be, when I got into bed. Inhaling deeply, I took the leathery journal in my hands and opened the book and started reading it from the very beginning. The handwriting was messy, almost shaky and nothing like I remembered his handwriting. He must have been crying at all times.

 

Was this some sort of suicide diary?


	4. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Michael listens to June Haverly.

 

**_Dearest Journal,_ **

_Once again, I find myself crying._

_Today, I was scrolling through my twitter timeline once again. I am very aware that I, especially in my state, am not supposed to do that. Yet here I am, cheekily smiling at the sweet tweets and clenching my fist into balls when I see rude things. Whether they are about me or not. Whether they’re directed towards my band or not. It bothers me a lot that people are disrespectful and not able to express their opinion in a nice way._

_I’m not saying they cannot state their opinion because everyone is entitled to like something or not, but when you dislike something, keep it to you or be mature about. So when I read things that are verbally abusive, I want to hug the person that’s been attacked and when they’re directed towards me, I just want to add more cuts on my body parts. They are so true and it hurtst._

_How have people become so hateful?_

_No one ever will be able to please every single human being, you can try but that’s something you won’t achieve. It is sad, yet true. But what I simply don’t understand is that_ fans _are disappointed so easily. You always have high expectations and that is just unfair. Everyone makes mistakes every once in a while and no one is ever going to be perfect at all times. It is simply impossible._

_And the only thing I ever do is take a blade. Recently, it hasn’t been very effective and that had me desperate. I’ve had a major panic attack in that moment and then I grabbed some alcohol._

_Alcohol might not be the key. It might make you a little happier for a few hours but the pain comes back in the morning. And that is how it is. I cannot deny it and I cannot avoid it and it makes me want to cry. I also hate drinking. It tasted horrid to me, I just simply did not enjoy it at all. Also, who expected me to like it? I was not allowed to drink until I was 18.(Or 21 if we were in America.)_

_I was still 17 and I have been highly intoxicated too often. Some people would blame everyone but me, but I, personally, blame no one but me. It was me who deserved the pain, it was me who deserved the insults and it was me who deserved to die. And honestly, I’ve tried so many things. When I stopped eating, our manager noticed me becoming paler and smaller and had someone make me a burger. If I denied it, he would have known._

_I tried to cut open a vein, but I was too scared. My hand was too shaky and I was too weak and not brave enough to do it. That’s the thing, I wanted to die fast and not in pain. If I had a gun, I would have used it._

_And by now I realised that I’m suffering from extreme depression. I won’t visit a doctor, though. I want to disappear, I don’t want be healed._

_I would just really appreciate escaping. I want to escape from the cruel world and getting to a place, where no war (whether in a country, nor in our hearts and brains) exists and no one has to starve and no one is sad and no one is cruel to anyone else. Sadly, it is that too much to ask for. It seems to be impossible and I hate that. I want everyone to be happy – including me, and I know that’s a very selfish thing to say._

_I just don't know anymore. But I know something, and that is that I grabbed the bottle with the antidepressants in it and swallowed one more than last time. These little pills somehow make my wishes come true. The effect may only stays for a few hours (depending on how many pills I swallow), but they do take me away. They fill my black and white world with the colour I need; these happy little pills bring bright blue to my sky. And I am happy they exist. And I am happy that I am tired now, which means I can finally sleep, without crying myself to sleep._

_Which I’ve been doing a lot recently._  
  


 

I was shocked. I did not know Luke had been this sad; I think no one could tell. That thought might sicken me, but I cannot change it. It’s just the sad truth. I did not know he wanted to die so badly. I did not know anything of that. One messily written page could tell so much about a person. I cannot believe what I just read. It just broke my heart. As if his death wasn't too much already, knowing he was suffering with depression just makes me feel even worse. I feel more broken than I thought was possible, and I did not realize that that was possible. "It's not our fault, it's not our fault," I kept telling myself. It did not make me feel better, sadly.

I kept telling myself we did not cause his death but then there were those voices and they kept telling me different. I shut the book closed and smashed it against the door.

"Michael," my two other band mates ran into the room. "What was that?“, they asked and I just said I was sorry, and that I was "kind of losing my mind". They nodded, saying that they felt the exact same way, and then we all hugged. "I miss him. I just, I miss him a lot. I just want to keep crying until we see him again. **If** we get to see Luke again. If we do, it’ll be among the angels."

"Maybe it was meant to happen. His death. Maybe he is where he belongs now. Maybe he is among the angels – just like you said. I just hope he is happy now – where he is, I mean. Wherever he is. I want him to be happy, and I think we can all agree that he wasn't when he was here on earth," the boy to my right mumbled. “You know, I thought about it. A lot. And there were many hints that he wasn’t okay.”

We nodded in agreement. I couldn't speak. All I would have been able to say is that I just really wanted Luke back. "We all want him back," he adds. But I hope the truth had just been spoken, I hope he is happy now and I hope an angel on earth remains in heaven.

_In peace._

Falling asleep turned out to be a struggle for me. I hardly managed to close my eyes without thinking about Luke and how his eyes closed – forever, I mean. And I also think of the way Luke’s body looked when I went to check up on him. I kept asking myself things, I would probably be never able to answer. Did he drug himself? Did an overdose cause his death? Did the police mean this with “Is Luke Hemmings the next June Haverly'? If so, I will never be able to forgive myself. It just makes me sick, knowing that the song June Haverly wasn't overdone. I knew its meaning now.

I turned on my iPod and opened YouTube, typing _'june haverly’_ into the searching bar. The first video was a lyrics video and I clicked on it. I barely remembered this song, but somehow still knew the words. Quietly, I sang along with the singer, who was an Australian boy called _Troye Sivan_. **_"You're on top of the world, just trying to stay on the track. And they will kiss your feet while they stab your back,"_** I sang. Clearly it's meant metaphorically, but I understood the metaphor. And I am impressed, by how a 17-year-old boy could write something this deep, with this much meaning. I was truly impressed.

And crying again because I was _not okay, I wasn’t o-fucking-kay._


	5. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the band might break up.

**_Dearest friend._ **

_I was_ _beating up a guy today so he would stop messing with me. He would always add one condition and when I was able to do what he wanted me to, he’d say **on one more condition.** Don’t get me wrong, I never wanted him to be sent to the hospital but I did want him to stop messing with me **In this state**. Plus, we did have a deal: I'd give him 400$ and I'd get 8 gram. But all of the sudden he wanted more and -- though I was able to afford it -- I wasn't exactly willing to pay him twice as much as the deal was so we started arguing and I threw a punch and I was finally handed the small plastic bag. And now I am happy again. I feel like the world is all rainbows and puppies and in that moment I forgot about the real world. _

_In that moment, I had to think back to RE classes and our teacher once told us that “drugs did not lighten your mood. All drugs do, is make you feel more of what you already.” Which is complete bullshit._

_I just smoked more and afterwards I swallowed three sleeping pills. I was fast asleep quickly but I in fact regretted it. It was too much; taking two more pills than usual, since it was pretty much of a struggle to me and the boys as well to wake up. So I swallowed two pills to wake me and one painkiller when the sun rose._

_I didn't cut in almost two weeks. Many people would tell me how they’re proud that I’ve been better. But in reality, I’ve just been worse. People tell me (indirectly as well, which hurts more than if they said it directly to me) that I disgust them and that I do nothing but make their ears bleed. I don't do anything. I don't please them. I will never please anyone. I am worthless. Painkillers, pretty please with cherry on top  
._

If we didn't get critics, Luke maybe would not have passed away.

Right now, all I would change if I were able to change the past would be our career. I’d insist that we could become famous on our own and I’d tell them that we would only get the _boy band_ -image if we agreed. (Which was the case in the end.). But Luke said it himself. Life isn't rainbows and puppies. And there is so much hate in this world that caused so much death and sadness and suicide. I wanted to cry but I refused to. I was hurt, but I didn't want to be weak. Sure, it was okay to cry over death. But I just have to -- though I don't want to admit it -- face the future and get over the past. But the pain is hardly bearable.

I was listening to  _June Haverly_ and  _GLORIOUS CRIME_ all the time. I knew all the words to the first songand I had mixed feelings about it. We have to get our mind of his death. We can't rot in _hell on earth_ while Luke is where he belongs. And that is heaven. "Boys, can we do something to distract ourselves? The tension in here makes me want to ... want to vomit and I hate it," I asked. I didn't care if it was too early or the question was inappropriate, I just had to ask.

"I'd be more than okay with that. Everything in here reminds me of the grey world and I want to ... I don't know. Speaking of the worst, I want to get pissed and laid. Though I am hoping for a rather legal reason to smile," Calum whispered. And I looked at him, nodded and waited for a second answer. But Ashton didn't look pleased with my question.

"Are you two kidding me? You want to drink and drug yourselves  _like_   _Luke did_ while drugs  _caused Luke's death_. I didn’t think you two would be so weak, I didn’t expect you two to be such _traitors._ ”

“Sorry, in all honesty. But there is something in here that does not make the mood better and Luke wouldn’t want us to be this sad.”

"How do you know?" Ashton screamed and I shrieked back. "Luke Robert Hemmings passed and you don't want to be sad?  _This_ makes me sad, the disappointment I feel right now, right now in you two is heart wrecking and disgusting. Luke was our family! And he died! How could you think of  _partying?_ Guess what, I am going somewhere else. Don't expect me to come back."

"Stay the fuck back!" Calum screamed at him and I really did feel like crying. "Do you want to stay here, all sad and moody, acting like the biggest bitch of all time? If so: congratulation, you did it. I hope you’re happy when you’re sad. But I want to do what Luke would have wanted us to do.”

This shut Ashton up, with his lips trembling and watering eyes. I didn't feel like going anywhere, anymore. Once again, I didn’t know what to feel. On the one hand, I felt guilty and responsible, but on the other hand I feel like we should try to make the situation better. "I'll just stay home, and find out what people say about this incident on social media."

So without saying anything else I went to my room and took my laptop and logged into the band account on twitter. Though, I wish I wouldn't have done that. Everywhere, everyone was going crazy. Massive fights in the fan base and between the fans. I decided to tweet something, but I didn't know what to say, so I just looked through some tweets including the trending hashtags, when one tweet caught my eye sight.

_lets all pray to the lord luke died. he wasnt talented anyways. 5sos is better off without him #lukesdead_

I was too furious when I read that. I could barely breathe, all I felt was anger and hate towards this one person. All I wanted to do was punch the girl in the face and make her regret saying those things. But I wasn’t able to, so I decided I’d answer her.

_I have never heard something worse. Luke was one of the greatest human being I was allowed to know. Don't say something like that ever again. #wewillmisslukeforever_

I heard screaming coming from another room and then I heard the door shut. After ten seconds, I heard knocking on my door. "Michael?" there were violent sobs. I knew it was Ashton, he was sensitive. He was the only one that would actually cry ever. "Michael, I did something bad." Wondering, what he did I waited a few seconds before opening the door. Before I did, he said, he felt like the article in the newspaper was right.

In a rush I opened the door, immediately hugging him and felling, how the texture over my shoulders became slightly wet. I rubbed his back and he kept sobbing. "Calum and I were fighting. And then I punched him. And he said that I messed up. And then he punched me back. And I said I wanted Luke back. And he said that he felt like I was blaming Luke and then the stormed out the door. Michael, will we end up like _GLORIOUS CRIME_ and will Luke be J. H.?"

"I don't know, Ashton. I hope not, really." I felt that I started to cry, too, so I led him to my bed and continued hugging him there. "Okay, I know you don't want to and I completely understand, but we will distract ourselves now. Go on Netflix," I said and pointed to the still opened laptop. "And in the meanwhile I'll grab beer and some toffees." And then we will watch _Clueless_ because I know how much you like the movie and we will watch every Disney movie that we want to see and maybe even _First Class_ , to distract ourselves from all the pain and bad stuff that is going on currently.  


The next day I woke up to more arguing. I heard our manager and Calum and Ashton screaming. I didn't hear much, but what I heard made my heart break. "We will never replace Luke! We'd rather end up homeless than end up with a different singer!" I heard Calum scream. "If this is what you want!" I heard our manager say. Then, I could tell, Ashton and Calum gasped. They asked if he was going to give up on us already and I heard a deep voice saying goodbye. "Was this the end of 5sos?" I asked.

Both boys turned around to look at me and said in sync: "I don't even know, Michael." I wanted to cry again. As if a dead band member wasn't enough, they had to add the end of our career.

We were going to end up like _GLORIOUS CRIME_ and I didn’t like it.

We all sat down at the table and didn’t say anything. It was quiet and _sometimes quiet is violent._


	6. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Michael realised that Luke was an angel that gave love but got nothing back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't spell checked this chapter, yet. But I will, soon enough.

 

_Beloved journey,_

_It was two in the morning when I passed out and I was so glad that the guys were already asleep so they would never be able to catch me, being wasted. But to tell the entire story, it started like this:_

_It was about nine in the afternoon and I realised I haven’t been on Twitter in a long time, this is why I logged into my account and checked some of my notifications and the trending tags. So when I saw trends like ‘whereisluke’ a small smile plastered my face. Knowing that fans were concerned about me, because I wasn’t online in a while was good feeling and I wanted to know the feeling better. Yet, there were other trends and I immediately felt worse than ever when I saw these tweets._

_I will never repeat what I read because it hurt too much. And there were words that I would never dare to say out loud. They were too inhuman and they were hurting. I was hurting. So, after I read tons of tweets about me (the negative ones, because that’s how I stupid I am) I managed to make myself cry. And I harmed myself again. But this time, the blood on my thighs wasn’t satisfying as it usually is. I only felt empty when I did. This led to me, chunking two beers in two minutes and a few shots of some vodka that I had in my rucksack. I passed out around two a.m._

_I was awoken by Calum at 11 in the morning, to him slapping my face and saying that he’s been doing that for the last ten minutes. “Dude, you were fast asleep, it took ten minutes to wake you up, and I was slapping you – gently, may I add – and nudging your shoulder but you didn’t wake up, man.”_

_I wasn’t surprised, if I’m being honest. It took me four sleeping pills to fall asleep. No wonder it took Calum ages to wake me up; if no one were to wake, I would have slept until three p.m. if I’m not completely wrong._

_So I took four awakeners and I felt slightly more human now. Tour would start soon and I’ve been taking way more than I used to. I don’t know how many I will swallow in a day when we’re touring. I just know that I going to be overwhelmed and tired all the time._

_So, this is what my day was like, and I don’t know what to think. All I know is that I am thinking about ending it all._

_Stats of the day: Luke Hemmings, 17 years old; stressed and nervous, broken and crying, done with everything; April, 28 th._

At some point this day, I was finally brave enough to tell Ashton and Calum that I found his journal. I thought they would be angry with me for two reasons: a) looking through his private stuff and b) not telling them about the precious this I found. But they were as happy as they could be, and Ashton carefully held the book in his hands. He was slowly opening it and we were reading it together. Starting at the very first page.

We obviously started crying. The tears had already found their way out of our eyes when we were still on the first page – the first paragraph even. Surprisingly, I was the first one to run out of tears. This could have been caused my two reasons; on the first hand, because I’ve been doing nothing but crying for the last few days whilst Ashton and Calum were sitting in silence and on the other hand, because I’ve already read the text.

But I made them stop reading, when they reached the 4-28-2014-text. They were confused but trusted me, and I was given the book again. After I put the book back in my rucksack and went back into the other guys’ room, I was taken aback by surprise. Ashton, who would always try to keep his feeling bottled up until he’s alone, was crying and shaking and it seemed like he had  panic attack, and Calum, the one that’s more like to have a panic attack in a moment like this, was rubbing his back in a circle-like motion, but remained completely mute. So I joined in on Calum, trying to calm Ash down. It was just such a painful phase that we were going through. Everyone was-

“Have you guys heard from Liz or Andy? Oh my, can you imagine what they’re going through?” They must be going through hell right now, and I knew who I would be calling later that day. But I would do that later.

Sometimes, when I knew I was about to cry and I knew that I really needed to let the tears flow I’d fasten the process by listening to _June Haverly._ But by now, the lyrics don’t make me cry anymore. They still do make me sad but instead of crying I would just shake. So I found a new song to listen to: _People Help the People_ by _Birdy._

A few words in the song reminded me a lot of Luke. “A fiery throng of muted angels, giving love but getting nothing back.” This is what Luke was. He was an angel, a true angel and he cared how other people felt and he cared what other people thought. But those things weren’t mutual. Some people just didn’t care how loving Luke treated them and some people didn’t realise that Luke may have needed someone. And I never knew how hurting it could be to know that someone gave everything they could but got nothing. Although they deserved everything.

I remember that one time, a boy asked him to kiss him on the cheek. And he did it. Luke just, Luke gave everything that he was asked for and I barely know almost 18 year olds that would kiss a fan of the same gender when they prefer the other gender. Everyone went crazy about it, how sweet Luke is and how caring and I remember that Luke was so happy. He wasn’t happy that people were happy with _him_ but he was happy that _he made someone happy._

And I remember some other time, when a homeless man insulted him, saying that he was a good-for-nothing brat and saying he sounded like a weakling. We were playing in a park and fans left and this man just came up to us and insulted him. But Luke didn’t say a word. He was standing there, with watering eyes, and his hands were shaking and he looked down and he did not stand up for himself. All he did was _apologize for being bad at what he enjoys._ He said sorry to the man with no respect. He said sorry after someone was _inhuman_ to him.

I honestly wasn’t sure if I wanted to slap some sense into Luke’s brain or punch taste and respect into that man’s face.

  
Suddenly, I noticed that this entry was exactly one week before he died. I checked again and my eyes started to burn; my cheeks were heating up and my eyes were watering and burning and I knew I was about to cry in a second.

And in this exact moment, I realised that maybe his death was right, that he deserved to die and he needed to die. But not in the way where you want someone to because you hate, he deserved to die because he deserved to escape. He deserved to leave this world where the only thing he felt was _pain._ He didn’t deserve pain and he didn’t deserve to suffer so he deserved to escape from this horrible, filthy world. Maybe Luke was a bird that’s been hit by a car. It’s better to kill the bird already than to leave it crippled on the street, suffering from pain and trying to make it in this big and overwhelming world. Maybe he had been suffering for too long and he just deserved to end his pain.

Everyone dies at some point in their lives. Hopefully, their death comes in the right moment; hopefully their death arrives when they deserve it and when the right time has come. Whether a Grandparent in too old or a poor adult in suffering from a disorder like cancer, and they only live in physical pain. Or when a young adult suffers from a chronic and mental disorder and they only feel mental pain. Maybe Luke’s time had come just in the right moment and now he is where he truly belongs; where he’s always belonged and where he will be truly happy.

Maybe he is finally among the angels.

  
The day we got a call, telling us that Luke's funeral would be in a ten days the first thing I wanted to do is scream at the top of my lungs. I just wasn’t ready to see his coffin being lifted into the ground, six feet under. But before the day of the funeral will come, I will have finished his journal, his heart wrecking journey and I will tell everyone about the pain that too many people feel.

I will not give up and I will do everything for Luke. I will do everything that I’m able to, just to look down from up there, and smile and not be disappointed with us. I want to make this right after I messed up so much.

If he wanted me to, I would write him a song, I would sing any song he wanted me to sing, even if was the happiest song you could think of; I would sing a love song if he told me to and I would do everything I would have never done, only if Luke would want me to.

But first I will try my best to move on, to not start crying every time someone mentions him or talk about him. It will be hard to do that, it will be hard to make a move and to move on, but I will, eventually. I bet Luke wanted us to move on and not cry over him until we die our own death. He would want the best for us, at any times. And now, I want the best for him.

I needed to talk to Ashton and Calum right now. I headed downstairs immediately and looked for them until I found them arguing with each other. “God damn it, guys! Do you think Luke would want you two to fight down here? Do you legit think, that he looks down from heaven to see you two scream at each other and do you think he is happy about it? Can you think for a moment, he would want us to move on and not to kill each other! I can’t believe you behave like this. Don’t you feel guilty now?”

When they looked at me, I could see the guilt in their eyes. So I sighed and said what I actually wanted to say.

"Remember two years ago, when we all listened to that one song, trying to figure out its meaning? We did not understand it. Everything we understood was that it was a sad song. Do you remember that song?" I asked.

The raven haired boy looked at Ashton, and turned his head to me again. " _June Haverly_?" he said, “is that the song you’re talking about?

"Yes, _June Haverly_. A year after it was published, we re-discovered it again. Do you guys remember that? We understood it a little, thinking the song was overdone." I continued. I saw their confused faces and Ashton then said:

"Isn't it, still?"

"No, not at all. I truly understand it, finally. Though I wish, I didn't."


	7. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Michael over-analyzes a rather specific song.

“Explain it to us, then,” Ashton mumbled with a sad look on his face. I looked at him, nodding slowly and trying to get all the lyrics together. So quietly, I started singing the first verse.

 _“June Haverly, you always get your way. But June Haverly, not today. No, not today,”_ Then I started explaining my thoughts, my interpretation and they were listening, carefully and calm, quiet and nervous. I said that I felt like this line of the song was telling you, that people think people in society’s spotlight always get what they want, but that that isn’t the case. Celebrities have to stand up for themselves as well, and that’s what I said. As I continued singing the song, still nervous and still quiet, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, since I started to forget the upcoming lyrics.

" _You're on top of the world just trying to stay on the track **,**  and they will kiss your feet while they stab your back and watch your started burn to blazing crying."_

 _In this moment I knew that neither Calum nor Ashton have ever paid attention to the lyrics. They were looking down as if the floor had never been this interesting but I saw the tears forming in their eyes._ "I think this line is clear to both of you according to your reaction? But when you think about it, it’s actually painfully true. ‘They’ act like they support you but once you’ve made the tiniest mistake; their words will stab your back like knives. And they will be waiting for you to be crying.   _June Haverly, you're not to blame, no not to blame. But June Haverly, don't be ashamed for all the pain."_

 _Over-analysing this song was hurting. I was struggling to hold back the tears but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t hold it back anymore, so I let the tears fall as I slowly felt myself becoming a wreck of emotions. He was so embarrassed because of all the pain he felt, all the pain_ _they_ _had caused him. He was his own biggest enemy and there would have been no way to change that. His demons were too strong_.

“These lyrics, those words that are spoken are so true and it’s just so painful. This boy was sixteen I think when he wrote this, and his words are so bloody true. It’s insane. _You're on top of the world, just trying to stay on the track._ _We have managed to come so far, and no doubt, we have to thank our fan base but out biggest support was our biggest enemy at the same. Think about it! They were putting us under quite a lot of pressure._ _And they will kiss your feet while they stab you back and watch your started burn to blazing crying._ Do you get what I’m saying? They always said things like ‘your next EP will be the best one ever’ and it seems like a sweet thing to say but it’s so poisonous at the same time. They made us thing we’d always hve to be better and perfect and this isn’t how it works. No one is perfect, no one will ever be.

The two boys across from me fell into a pit of silence the whole time while I was rambling and on the edge of tears. But I finished the lyrics. " _June Haverly, we miss you so. Why'd you go? Oh why'd you go?"_ That was it, I couldn't hold the tears back anymore. But I was glad that Calum and Ashton were crying as well. The topic was sensitive to us. What else should it be? How -- in any different way -- shall we handle the death of our best friend, that was like a brother to us? There  _is_ no other way. 

After we comforted each other, I headed back to my room and fell onto my bed. I remained quietly, saying nothing, having my eyes closed, just laying there with my face buried in the pillows, screaming in the soft fabric. That was when I decided reaing the next entry in Luke's journal. I knew, I  _did_ know that I may have been going to far since a journal with suicidal notes in it is actually really private, isn't it? But, to be honest, I was hoping for something letter-ish in the end, that explained everything to us and that would formally say goodbye to us. But it was a hope. I knew it was a high hope.

 

 

_April, 29th. Six days until our tour starts and I'm already struggling with **everything.** We get so many tweets and fan mail and long story short, they are all expecting us to be perfect and as a fact no one is perfect. I don't how the expect us to be, if they can't accept themselves as perfect or something close. Not that I am complaining about how or fans have low self-esteem, not in any way am I judging them, especially not because I might be going through the same troubles? They can't see the best in themselves but they keep telling us that we are prefect while literally no one is. I just don't know anymore. _

_Don't get me wrong. I am not saying that I don't like compliments, I am just **scared.** I am worryied that when we are everything but perfect (so basically out of tune or having a bad hair day or such a thing) they are  **dissapointed** in us. I seem to dissapoint a lot of fans already and I can't handle it all too well. I don't know how the hell I am supposed to handle more hig hopes in us than I am already handling a totally  **wrong way.**_

_If Calum or Michael or Ashton found out how whiny I actually am, they will consider me as annoying and childish and I am scared that I dissapoint them as well. But I know I will someday. They way they look at me when I sing the wrong words in Voodoo Doll, the glares feel like knives they shove into my back. Or maybe it's the voices inside of my head telling me that they are mad for my mistakes._

_I hate these voices. I hate nothing more than these voices. I am actually shaking right now because I can sense their coming back to me. They always tell me how much of a disspointment I am, how gross I looked, how dissapointed everyone is in me. How I dissapointed my own **mother** because I was  **born.** How I dissapointed my brothers because I used to be  **a pain in the ass** and  **annoying** and I always start crying and gripping the blades in my bag and shoving them into my skin. _

  _It is 3 am now. I am tired but I can't sleep. I actually try (I **try** for the first time in ages) to refuse to urge to take pills. I do realize that they might have helped me out a lot recently but I realized as well that they make me feel dizzy and tired constantly and I am not sure hwo to feel about this. But I need rest. Though I could stay awake all night long and just grab those awakener-pills but I might just get rest and drink tons of black coffee tomorrow morning._

_That sounds so much better than taking 4 pills now and 4 in 7 hours. But since destiny hates me I couldn't fall asleep, so I swallowed two of the small pink pills with a sip of wine, so it would the effect would show up faster than just swallowing it with water. My handwriting is very, very shaky right now. And with every time I blink, my eyelids feel heavier and heavier, and I am having troubles with breathing. Good night._

_Luke Hemmings, sad and drugged, feeling overwhelmed and like everything is too much. 29th of April. Year 2015._


	8. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael feels horribly guilty and gives himself the blame.

_April, 30. Today, Ashton came up to me, telling me how they tried to wake me for ages and I just wouldn’t wake up. He also said how they were worried. Madly worried, to be exact and apparently he was not, in any way, exaggerating. I, on my behalf, thought they were deeply annoyed with me, so I just shrugged, saying I would hurry up and ensuring them that I’ll be ready in a minute. After that, I locked myself in the bathroom and I stared at my own reflection in the mirror. Oh, how horrible I looked, in the worst possible way. Yet again, not exaggerating. Of course I looked bad, I wasn’t used to it being any other way, yet I tried to make the best out of it and swallow half a pill and using some concealer I bought after seeing a picture of it on Instagram. When I was ready I got downstairs and stepped inside the kitchen where the boys handed me a brewing hot cup of coffee._

_“You look like you could use it, buddy. We do need to leave now, though, okay?” Calum said. I nodded and gratefully smiled at him. Luckily, the coffee was black and unsweetened, just like I loved it. I drank half of it and followed them outside to the car._

_On our way to our boss’ office (where we would encounter him to talk to him about the tour that would start in very few days), we sat in absolute silence. The only sound was the quiet music out of the radio and cars honking outside. I hated motorways, the noise, and the smell, everything about it. The feeling you get when you drive so fast and so careless made me so uncomfortable and if you add the silence that was in the air, you would just want to puke._

_Eventually, we arrived and entered his office where we were asked to sit down at a round table and we ended up sitting there for about 100 minutes. Way too long, if you ask me. We had to discuss out setlist and out stage outfits and if I’m being entirely and utterly honest, I wasn’t too sure if this information was even necessary for me._

_After our meeting, we had decided we wanted to get lunch, which, thanks to Ashton and Michael, ended up being pizza and I just wasn’t in the eating mood, at all. It was like my stomach saying ‘yes’, yet my brain and my heart screaming that I didn’t want it. I ate one slice. I left them some money to pay end I left earlier to meet Johnson. They looked at me, almost as if they were suspicious but I said I was sure that I wasn’t hungry anymore and all I wanted was a walk and some alone time. Which was true, technically._

_Johnson, for your information, is the guy whom I get my drugs from. He is the biggest douche you can imagine and you just want to punch him so that he bleeds. But drugs, they are too seducing to not want to do them. Anyone could tell me how much of a bad person I am for consuming drugs but they’re too good to stop. What Johnson so dislikeable, is that he always increased his shitty prizes. I know that he knows that I have money. That’s no secret, yet I don’t brag about him and fight him to keep his prizes the same._

_For example, the other day he actually asked for 1500 pounds. A month prior he asked for 800 and that was already insane. I punched him. He punched me. Then I had to buy a new concealer. But it’s unfair, isn’t it. I would say it’s illegal to change prizes this drastically when their own deliverer wants the same prize all the time. I don’t, though, because no matter how little you want for drugs, it’s illegal. No matter what._

_Luke Hemmings, 30th of April. Feeling: deeply sick and nauseous, afraid to die, yet willing to die if given the chance._

Luke is the most caring and loving person I could possible think of. There’s not much to say about it, it’s just a straight up fact. Black on white, he was a true saint, a gift from heaven and he was there for everyone but himself. Caring for himself had never been a priority to him, whilst it should have. He always found a way to not care for his own well-being and now he is dead. All thanks to his selfless.

I wish I wouldn’t have to say that he died but he is dead and nothing can change it. There’s no way we can get him back. Giving 101 % at all times comes with costs, doesn’t it? Giving 101 % in career and appearance but not giving a single shit about you makes you forget that you need to be taken care of. It makes you forget that you do matter and that you are allowed and opinion and that you can be hurting. Luke forgot that. And now he is dead.

“Stop thinking about death. Stop thinking about the funeral. Stop thinking about his body burning to ashes. Stop torturing yourself,” I said to myself. Granted, this might sound crazy but somehow, I’m almost glad he’s gone. His journal clearly shows that he was unhappy and wherever he is, he’s happier. I hope he is.

How did we get to the point though, where Luke was so incredibly unhappy he decided to die so early? How could someone be so incredibly rude and disrespectful and judgemental to him that he considered those words to be true? How can one possible hate someone to this point?

I don’t get and I absolutely hate it. I hate the angst and frustration and depression in the air and everyone hating everyone and suicides everywhere. Why don’t we just make ourselves happy without risking other people’s happiness? That’s all I want but apparently that is too much to ask for.

But sometimes what we ask for just can’t happen. Sometimes our dreams and hopes are too high and we will just end up being utterly disappointed. We’re also going to disappoint other people. We will make promises we cannot keep and we will make them just as unsatisfied as they make us. It’s the circle of life.

But that’s the thing, for the circle of life, something so natural and simple yet so overwhelming and confusing a life is required and it’s heartbreaking that people, especially good people like Luke give their life, possible their greatest gift ever away.

On the other hand, I can very well understand Luke and his decision. He was like a bird.

Now, let me explain. Let’s take a small bird, and the bird has something bad happening to him. Maybe a car hits him, or a baseball hits him or he flies against a window, we don’t know. The bird is now hurt, unstable and on the edge of death. It’s suffering from pain, physical pain and it’s horrible. The bird knows his scars and wounds won’t heal, which becomes pain as well, but this time, it’s his brain suffering. Would you, as the bird, want to keep fighting when you know there’s no getting better any time soon or hope to die and try to die and end the pain? Luke, as I said, is a bird. But it wasn’t a car that crashed into him. It was words, thousands of those and those hurt more like actions and injuries. He knew there was no way out of this dilemma. So he decided to end the pain.

Poor bird.  
Poor Luke.

I would have said how unfair it was, how unfair it is because if someone deserved to suffer from this mental pain, Luke would have been the last one the list. But I will not say that because life actually is fair because it is unfair to everyone.

“Luke,” I mumbled. “I miss you and I want you back but I don’t want you back. I just want you to feel better and happier now. Promise me that, Luke.”

Silently, I got up and put the put on my night stand, and then I walked into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. My eyes were red, watering and swollen from crying and in that moment I realised how Luke looked like this a lot, too. We never saw.


End file.
